


"So do we need Super-Diapers?"

by orphan_account



Category: DC Animated Universe, DCU, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: Babies, Baby Conner Verse, De-Aged, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Kidfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-01
Packaged: 2017-12-20 20:47:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An AU in which the Cadmus fire (and subsequent investigation) happened about a month earlier, so Superboy was still a Superbaby. Cue the team's befuddled attempts at babysitting. They do say it takes a village. Of course, getting Clark Kent to take some responsibility for the kid might take more than that.<br/>- PLEASE READ CHAPT 16 AND SAVE NOW, THIS FIC WILL BE DELETED ON TUESDAY THANK YOU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Okay, so, breaking into the underground Cadmus lab to investigate? Not all that hard. Fighting off the genomorphs, which were a weird surprise, not too hard either. Breaking into a secret room to find out what project Kr was wasn’t even that bad. But when Robin, Kid Flash and Aqualad finally got a look at what Cadmus was hiding… they were surprised, to say the least.  
“You’re gonna wanna see this,” Kid flash called.

  
“Is he who I think he is?” Kaldur asked, staring down at the glass cradle. Kid flash pulled up a file.

  
“Guys, listen to this, they engineered him from Superman’s DNA. Project Kr, like kryptonite!” Kid flash exclaimed.

  
“Okay but… he’s so little.” Robin put in.

  
“He must be only a year old. Whoa, or days old, according to the file. They’re making him grow at an advanced rate!” Kid flash marveled, pressing a hand against the glass cradle where the tiny sleeping form of what looked so uncomfortably and hilariously like a baby superman was encased.

  
“So project Kr created him without superman knowing.”

  
“And they’re planning to turn him into a weapon.” Kid flash said, skimming the file quickly.

  
“But guys, he’s sort of… superman’s son.” Robin pointed out.

  
“And he is very cute,” Aqualad noted. Wally and Dick took a moment to frown at him, before admitting, yeah, in his little white onsie with the superman “s”, he was not just cute, he was adorable. There was a genomorph nested by either side of his cradle though, and he laid totally still, more like a doll than a baby.

  
“They must be mind controlling him right now.”

  
“What do we do?”

  
And that was when the little superbaby woke up, and the glass got broken real fast.

  
Sitting up in a now smashed cradle of glass, the little superboy blinked up at them, his short dark hair in damp messy whorls, and opened his mouth.

  
“Wow, I hope he doesn’t have freezing breath,” Wally said quietly. The superbaby burst into tears. He didn’t, as it turned out, have freezing breath, but he did have quite the pair of lungs on him.

  
“What should we do?” Aqualad asked uncertainly, looking back at Kf and Robin. Kid flash shrugged, pushing his finger into his ears. The superbaby wailed louder.

  
“Oh my god, we’re going to go deaf,” Kid flash moaned. Robin gritted his teeth and picked up the baby, who was the size of at least a six month old, even if he was days old instead. The superbaby squirmed and cried in Robin’s arms, and Robin slid him onto his hip and bounced him a little. The baby hiccupped, and sniffled, but he stopped screaming.

  
“Holy crap, how did you do that?”

  
“Who knows. We should get out of here before someone—” Robin didn’t get to finish his sentence as the door burst open and a scientist guy with a pile of genomorph goons filed into the room.

  
“Hand over the weapon!” the man yelled, his hands stuffed in his white coat pockets and his brow furrowed.

  
“Is he talking about Supey?” Wally asked.

  
“I believe he is,” Kaldur said.

  
“Then are you guys thinking what I’m thinking?” Robin said with a crooked grin, setting the superbaby down in the cradle.

  
“Yeah, I think we are,” Aqualad said.

  
In the end, there was no way they would have gotten out of the building without Superboy’s help. He couldn’t talk, but he pointed them in the right direction until Dubbilex revealed himself. And even for a baby, he was pretty strong. He took out the last column and had to be scooped up by Aqualad when the building came crashing down on them. They crawled out of the rubble bruised and triumphant, and with the superbaby sniffling in Robin’s arms.

  
“Dude, we did it!” KF yelled, and then winced. Robin cackled. They looked up into the night sky and saw—“Oh crap is that superman?” Kid Flash exclaimed.

  
“More like the entire Justice League,” Aqualad corrected.

Superman was the first to touch down, and Superboy stared up at him like he was seeing the sun, not the moon, for the first time. Most prominent behind him was batman though, and he looked ticked.

  
“Is that what I think it is?” he intoned. The superbaby crinkled his brow and started wailing.

  
“Hey, he doesn’t like being called an it,” Wally piped up.

  
“He’s Superman’s clone,” Aqualad put in. Superman’s eyes widened. Robin held up the screaming baby, but Superman made no move to take him. League discussion ensued, and they ended with Superman floating over to announce, while refusing to look directly at the superbaby who was crying at top pitch and giving Robin a headache, that it wasn’t his area, but the other leaguers would figure it out. Then he told them that he needed to go make sure the Cadmus monster was squared away.

  
“Results aside,” Batman said loudly, trying to drown out Superboy’s wails. “You will not be doing this again.”

  
“I’m sorry, but we will,” Aqualad announced. “We did good work here tonight. The work you trained us to do...”

  
Their mentors didn’t look entirely convinced after their little speech, but Superboy’s wails were threatening to deafen them all.

  
“Oh man. That kid has a set of lungs on him or what?” Flash moaned. Batman made a kind of hissing noise in his teeth, and then stepped forward to take the baby from Robin’s sagging arms. At first he let out an even louder wail, but as Batman rocked him back and forth, his eyes fluttered and closed, and he fell asleep.

  
“Oh my god, did you actually have superpowers all along and just pretend not to?” Flash asked. Batman looked up at him, his cowl’s eyes narrowed. “Uh, never mind. Come on, KF, Let’s get going.”

  
Aqualad left with Aquaman, and Bruce turned to Dick with a frown.

  
“I know, hacking the systems, taking strange babies, blah blah blah,” Dick said.

  
“Actually I was going to say I bet we could convince Alfred we deserve cocoa, but now I’m not sure you do.”

  
“Hey! Batman! I deserve it! Hacking the systems! Rescuing babies, come on, just stay whelmed,” Dick cried, chasing after Bruce. By the time they arrived at the batcave he had fallen asleep in the batmobile with the superbaby on his lap, but Bruce got Alfred to make him cocoa anyways. In the morning, he was going to talk to Clark about responsibility. For now, he needed to figure out where in the manor he was going to keep a super strong baby, and how.

  
“Oh master Bruce. Not that I have ever been unhappy with your decision to adopt Master Dick, but now a baby? His adorableness is no excuse, I am afraid. We do not even have any diapers on hand.”

  
Bruce sighed, sliding back the cowl and lifting up the superbaby carefully, so as not to wake up him or Dick. “I know. Can you make some cocoa? We should talk about it.”


	2. Chapter 2

Dick woke up to the sound of his cellphone going off, and in the distance, a baby wailing. He fumbled to pick up the phone and groggily pressed it to his ear.

“Mmm, ‘llo?” he mumbled into the speaker.

“What up, bat boy?” Wally practically yelled into the phone in his obnoxiously chipper tone. Dick held the phone a little ways away from his ear.

“I just woke up. I think I hear Superbaby crying. I gotta go,” he said sleepily, and dumped the phone on his bed. He perked up on his way downstairs, because banisters were made for sliding and sailing from the first floor to the second always woke him up. The crying got louder until he arrived in the kitchen, where Alfred was bouncing the superbaby up and down like a pro. He was a pro of course, he’d taken Bruce from diapers to cowl, but all that experience was doing him not a lot of good it seemed.

“Wow he’s loud,” Dick commented, grabbing a slice of toast from the toast rack.

“Indeed he is, Master Dick,” Alfred conceded. “Here, hold this for a moment,” he added, and before Dick could protest he was handed the heavy, still wailing baby.

“Alfred! Come on!” he whined, bouncing him up and down a couple times.

“I just have a few arrangements to see to, I will be back presently,” Alfred said, fleeing the room. Dick sighed. There was a foldable crib playpen/bed thing beside the table, so he put the screeching baby down before his arms gave out. Superbaby just wailed louder.

“What do you want, SB?” Dick asked, picking up his dropped toast from the table. He shoved the toast in his mouth and looked around the kitchen. There were bottles and formula in the sink, so he wasn’t hungry, presumably. Maybe he was just… mad. Dick picked up a rattle that had been dropped, or thrown maybe under the table. He wiped it on his pajama shirt and then rattled it at Superbaby. At first he didn’t really take notice, but a few more shakes and he stopped crying to figure out what was making the weird rattling noise. Dick grinned, and twirled the rattle around a little. SB stood up in the playpen to make grabby hands at it.

“There we go,” he said, when Superbaby grabbed the rattle from him and started shaking it. SB plopped back down onto his butt and giggled. Dick laughed with relief and grabbed another slice of toast. Bruce walked into the kitchen with a coffee mug in hand and stopped dead.

“He’s not crying?”

“I must have the miracle batman powers,” Dick said. Bruce shook his head.

“Those only go so far.”

“He _is_ a pretty grumpy baby. But he’s had a pretty crappy time, if you think about it.”

“Your team is meeting at mount justice,” Bruce said. Dick looked up in surprise.

“ _My_ team?”

“You, Kid Flash and Aqualad. Apparently you’ve formed a team. Martian Manhunter is going to be there too, he has someone he wants you to meet.”

“And Speedy?”

“I wouldn’t bank on it.”

“What are we going to do with Superbaby?”

“Well, you said you wanted more responsibility, I figured you guys could watch him.”

“What?”

“You’re the ones who were so keen to break into Cadmus,” Bruce said, taking a piece of toast.

“You’re still not whelmed about that, huh?”

Before Bruce could reply, Superbaby chucked his rattle across the room and burst into tears.

“I need to talk to Clark,” Bruce yelled. 

“Ya think?” Dick called back.

 

 -SB-

 

Wally arrived at the cave first. Naturally. Well, his uncle was there already, but that didn’t count. ‘Cause of the whole, “Fastest Man Alive” thing. He wasn’t allowed to be called the winner in any races. At any rate, Wally was there before any of the members of the new team, or whatever it was going to be. He took the time to expertly tousle his hair and make sure there were no stains on his civvies. Gotta look good for the ladies. Not that there were gonna be any there, at least, none his age, but still.

Looking good never hurts. Aqualad arrived next, with AquaMan. It turned out half the league was arriving. Not superman, of course. And not… he was about to think Batman when the Dark Night appeared in the Zeta tube, Dick following directly after. Superbaby was announced as Superbaby, which made Wally crack up. For about two seconds. The kid was wailing his head off. Robin was holding him and despite the sunglasses covering his face, it was clear he was annoyed. And probably tired, if SB was that loud all the time.

“How’d you do?”

“Kids are a nightmare. Even in the day. They’re a mare.”

“That’s a female horse, dude.”

“Well, they’re terrible. Here, hold him for a minute, would you? He’s heavy.”

Without waiting for a reply, Robin thrust the screaming tot into Wally’s arms and shook his hands out. And he wasn’t kidding. Wally didn’t know if all kids were heavy or just this one and his weird super genes, but whatever it was, he felt the strain on his arms almost immediately. Before he could make further protests about being forced to hold the kid (after all, Kaldur was probably the strongest of the three of them) Martian Manhunter arrived. And boy did he bring a cute young green girl with him. Introduced as his niece, Miss Martian, or M’gann, (or Megan, as she gigglishly told them) smiled nervously at them and gave small wave.

“She will be joining your covert team. Black Canary will be in charge of training, Red Tornado will manage the cave, and I will assign missions,” Batman said.

“And hey. Leave the big stuff to the league. We got these targets on our chests for a reason,” Flash said, giving Wally a nudge. He might have laughed or grinned but he was busy trying to bounce Superbaby up and down, because it turned the crying into a slow sniffling. Miss M’s eyes practically lit up when she noticed her proximity to a baby.

“Oh my gosh, he’s adorable!” she gasped as the league was zeta-ing away. Robin ducked out to have a word with Batman. “Can I hold him?” Miss M cooed.

“Be my guest,” Wally replied instantly, hoping faintly that she had stronger arms than him. In her arms as she rocked him back and forth Superbaby seemed to chill out a bit.

“Hey, looks like he likes you,” Robin said.

“What did Batman say?” Kaldur asked.

“He said we should familiarize ourselves with the cave for the day. I think he’s just trying to ditch me to talk to you-know-who.”

Miss Martian frowned. “Who’s you-know-who?”

“Superbaby’s dad. Well. Not really. Didn’t you wonder why he had the superman symbol on his onesie?” Wally said.

“Hello Megan! I thought it was weird you guys had a baby with you!”

Robin and Kaldur did most of the explaining about Superbaby and how they came to steal/rescue him from Cadmus. Wally provided details of how heroic he had been, and also his phone number, should she need to contact him.

“That shouldn’t be hard,” Miss Martian said, _I can contact you like this._

The team reeled, and Superbaby burst into huge wails. _What? What did I do?_

“Cut it out!” Robin cried.

It took some explaining for Megan to understand that telepathy wasn’t really super casual on earth, and that some people (and especially SB) were not all that cool with it. She was pretty understanding. There was one part she had a problem with though.

“I can’t believe Superman wouldn’t even stick around to make sure he was safe with someone.”

“I guess he’s freaked out. It’s not every day you meet your baby clone self,” Robin put in.

“We still have responsibilities though. You would think he would be aware of that more than anyone else,” Kaldur mused.

 

  -SB-

        

In Metropolis, Bruce Wayne was sitting down in a diner with Clark Kent and hoping to explain just that. They placed their orders and the server walked away. Clark raised his eyebrows.

“Something tells me this isn’t about dessert,” he said. Bruce wasn’t going to sugar coat it. He had nothing against the Superbaby, but he had work to do, and it wasn’t like he was going to get Red Tornado to babysit.

“The boy needs you,” he said firmly. Clark’s eyes widened.

“No. He needs you. He needs… look, I don’t even know how to change a diaper,” Clark said quickly.

“Sorry, Clark, but I don’t care,” Bruce replied. Clark looked up in surprise. “Look, I know he… troubles you, but he’s here. You have to get over the how and the why. That’s how kids happen sometimes. Trust me on this, Clark. He needs his father.”

“I’m _not_ his father!” Clark cried, jumping up from the table. “I’ll take that pie to go!” He put on his hat and hurried out of the diner. Bruce sighed. This wasn’t over. Not until he said so. 


	3. Chapter 3

Back at the cave the team was faring better with Clark’s tiny counterpart. He’d stopped screaming at least. M’gann was turning her hand into different weird shapes and he was clapping at her. Robin and Wally had retreated to talk about how cool it was to finally be on a team (although Wally was slightly more interested in talking about how cute M’gann was) and Kaldur was unsure what he wanted to do with himself. He decided talking to the new team member was a good idea, as it would help her become more comfortable in the group. Unfortunately he wasn’t exactly sure what to say.

“You like children?” he tried, sitting down on the floor beside her. She giggled.

“Yeah, I guess I do! I mean, who wouldn’t like him though, he’s such a cutie!”

There was no denying that. His little curls of black hair and big blue eyes certainly rendered an inarguably adorable image. Not to mention those cubby cheeks. He was still wearing the Cadmus onesie from the day before, smoke stains and all.

“He is very cute,” Kaldur agreed.

“Hey, what’s his name?” M’gann asked suddenly, looking up from Superbaby, who grabbed for her hand just as it changed into two hands, and then squealed in amazement.

“I don’t believe he has one.”

“What? But that’s inhuman! And I’m not even human! Oh wait, hello, Megan! You guys just found him right?”

“Yesterday. We could give him a name, I suppose.”

“Isn’t that a job for his father?” Robin put in. Apparently he and Wally were done talking.

“I’m sure Superman will come around,” Wally said, and then added, “Right?”

“Let’s hope so,” Kaldur replied. As if on cue, Superbaby dropped M’gann’s hands and burst into tears. The whole team froze.

“What do we do?” M’gann asked. The team looked at one another. Then they all looked at Robin.

“Hey! Just because we took him back to the batcave doesn’t make me an expert on babies all of a sudden!” he cried. Kaldur hung his head. He reached down and picked up the screaming child, who squirmed in his grip. He smelled. Bad.

“Did Batman provide you with supplies?” Kaldur asked. Robin nodded.

“Wally, grab my bag,” he said. Wally zipped across the room to snatch it off the counter, and then dropped it on the couch for Kaldur.

“Okay, Robin, open it and look for some diapers,” Kaldur said. Robin unzipped the bag and rifled around, pulling out a handful of diapers triumphantly.

“We probably need this too,” Robin said, dragging out a folded up blanket and spreading it over the couch so Kaldur could lay Superbaby down. He turned out to be not all that bad at changing diapers. It was fairly straightforward. The team was still pretty impressed.

“I guess Batman is testing us, huh?” Wally said, bouncing a much happier Superbaby on his lap as M’gann waved a rattle at him and Robin and Kaldur cleaned up. Robin smirked.

“Maybe. Or he’s getting back at me for Cadmus,” Robin replied. Wally laughed, and Superbaby giggled, reaching for the rattle. “He’s cute though, I admit it.”

“What’s going to happen to him if Su—if you-know-who refuses to take care of him?” M’gann asked. Wally, Kaldur and Robin exchanged a look.

“Batman will sort it out. He’s not the kind of guy who takes no for an answer,” Robin finally said.

“I hope Superman is not an exception,” Kaldur said quietly. There was a moment of anxious, uncomfortable silence.

“Well, if we’re just stuck babysitting today, let’s watch a movie,” Wally said. M’gann smiled, her eyes lighting up.

“Oh! I love earth movies!” she squealed.

“Of course you do, babe,” Wally leered. Superbaby hit him in the face with the rattle.

 

 -SB-

 

Clark Kent took the stairs all the way to his floor, and walked down the hall with an armload of groceries. He fumbled around for his keys halfway to his door, and then stopped. The door was ajar, and if had definitely been locked when he went out. He walked up to it cautiously, and then pushed it open. There was a baby in his kitchen, held in the arms of none other than Bruce Wayne. The baby was wearing a white onesie with the Superman symbol—his symbol, on it. Someone had patched the rips in it, and it had been well laundered. The baby was asleep, his small pink lips parted as he breathed.

“Clark.”

“Bruce, what is this?” Clark said, putting the grocery bag on the counter.

“ _This_ is your responsibility. It’s time to man up Clark. I don’t need another kid,” Bruce said, walking forward.

“Bruce, you can’t just—” Clark tried to say, but Bruce just pushed the baby into his arms, gave him the hint of a smile, and walked out. Clark was left standing alone in his kitchen with a rapidly melting tub of vanilla ice cream, and a baby that was—for the time being, asleep in his arms. For a moment, he was utterly lost for what he was going to do.

He was going to call Lois. No—he was going to go shopping. Because whether he liked it or not, he was watching the Superbaby at least until someone else in the league could help him sort things out, and he was going to need supplies.


	4. Chapter 4

The grocery store was loud and busy, like it usually was, but today it was louder and busier than ever before. At least, for Clark it was. This was because of the clone wailing in his arms at the top of his tiny but shockingly powerful lungs. He grimaced in annoyance and tried jiggling him up and down a little. To his surprise, the baby hiccupped and let out a final soft sob, blinking up at him with wet eyes. Clark sighed in shocked relief, and rocked the baby a little more, setting him down carefully in one of the carseat carrier type carts.

The baby blinked at him again, and then his eyelids drooped and his head lolled to the side as he fell asleep. Clark stared at him in confusion. The grocery store was incredibly noisy. He shook his head, and resolved to shop quickly, bypassing the fresh produce section to get to the diaper aisle, where he grabbed a package with a picture of a smiling baby on the front, and then snatched up some formula, a rattle, and a package of baby bottles. On a second thought he added baby wipes and some jars of baby food.

 _I shouldn’t even have to buy this stuff,_ he thought, proceeding hurriedly to the checkout. He was about to get in line when the clone shifted in the seat, and Clark noticed with a jolt that the baby was still wearing the white onesie with the Superman ‘S’ on it. It was patched up from where it must have gotten torn during the escape from Cadmus. He pushed the cart back to the section of the shop where they had clothing and navigated his way through the sea of pink that made up the little girls area until he arrived at the baby clothing. There was a young woman holding up two nigh-identical frilly dresses and frowning. Her eyes lit up when she saw the clone.

“Oh my gosh, he is adorable! How old is he?”

“I don’t know,” Clark answered automatically. The woman frowned at him. “Uh, he’s not mine, I’m just watching him for my cousin,” he said hurriedly.

“Oh, I see. Well, he’s a real cutie,” she said. The baby squirmed in his seat, and Clark grabbed a few appropriately sized sleepers and some shirts off a rack and threw them in the cart, grabbing some socks as an afterthought. The woman looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Uh. Can’t have too many pairs of socks, right?”

“Here. You’ll want these,” she simply said, and held out some soft cotton baby pants, and two onesies. One of them had the superman logo emblazoned across the blue fabric. Clark stared at it. “It looks like he likes Superman,” the woman joked, dropping both dresses in her cart and pushing it away. Clark contemplated putting the onesie back. In the end, he dumped it in the cart with the rest of the clothes, and headed to the checkout.

As he was putting his items on the belt and the cashier was ringing them through, the clone stirred in his seat, and his face crumpled. He opened his eyes and blinked in the bright light of the grocery store, and then burst into tears.

“What? What do you want?” Clark asked desperately. The baby extended his little arms and waved his hands in a universal demand of up. Clark hesitated, and then unbuckled him and picked him up, resting his small head against his shoulder. The superbaby fisted tiny hands in his shirt and snuggled up to him with a soft sigh. The cashier gave him a smile as he swiped his card and struggled to put it back in his wallet with one hand.

“They’re pretty clingy huh? My youngest was just like that,” she laughed. Clark made a non-committal noise and nodded, taking the bags with one hand and leaving the store. The superbaby was awake for the walk back to is apartment, but he didn’t cry, instead peering up at buildings and pointing at various things he spotted, like people cleaning windows or walking dogs. He seemed very concerned that Clark notice them too, tugging on his collar and making noises.

When he got to his apartment he realized that he had nowhere to put the baby, even while unloading the groceries. Then he blinked. There was something propped up on his couch. He walked over, only to find a folded up playpen (the kind that doubled as a crib), with a post it note stuck on it.

_Thought you might want this. -Bruce._

Clark almost laughed, but not quite. He set the baby on the floor and unfolded the playpen, scooping him up as he started to crawl towards the kitchen and plopping him into the playpen. Then he unpacked his groceries, only to have the phone ring. Superbaby stood up in the pen at the noise, looking around for its source. Clark hurried to pick up the phone.

“Clark! Did you finish that story on the fire at Metropolis Elementary?” Lois’s voice asked on the other end of the phone. Right. He’d been planning to finish it when he got home and then Bruce had to show up and throw a baby shaped wrench into his plan. In the playpen, said baby started crying, waving his hands in a demand to be picked up. Clark dropped onto the couch and tore the wrapping off the rattle, waving it at the baby.

“Uh, about the story, listen Lois,” Clark began.

“Never mind, I’d rather do it myself anyways. By the way, is that a baby crying?”

“Um. Do you know how to change a diaper?” Clark asked weakly.

“No. But you could google it,” Lois replied. “Actually, I want to see this. I’m coming over, and we can do the story together,” she continued. Clark blinked, and before he could tell her not to, the phone cut to dial tone. Lois had hung up on him. Again.


	5. Chapter 5

Clark rifled through the bags to find the pack of diapers, which he tore open. Superbaby wailed in the playpen, waving his hands at Clark still. He gave in and dropped the diapers to pick up the baby. He reeked, to Clark’s distress. How did the onesie even come off? It had no visible zipper or buttons. He held the baby up and spotted the snaps that did up on the underside just as the buzzer rang, and there was a quick three taps on his door.

Superbaby, who had been watching him interestedly, took this as a cue to start crying again.

“Um, coming, hold on,” Clark said, and hurried over to open the door with Superbaby balanced on one hip.

Lois stepped into the apartment and raised her eyebrows, setting her laptop down on the counter beside the diapers.

“Wow Clark, somehow I kinda thought it was an elaborate hoax,” she laughed.

“It’s not funny. I have no idea how to change his diaper,” Clark grumbled. Lois just laughed again.

“I’d start by getting a diaper to change him into. And taking off the dirty one? Come on, six year olds know how to do it, it’s not that hard,” she said. Clark laid the superbaby down on the couch and tried to tone out the noise of his crying while undoing the onesie snaps. Then he opened the old diaper and was met with a sight of horror. Lois chucked a box of wipes at him, which he caught one-handed. “You might want those,” she said.

“Thanks,” Clark grimaced. He did his best to clean up the mess and then unfolded a new diaper and swapped the two. He was pretty sure he didn’t get any baby poop on his couch but it was a close call. As he was doing up the new diaper he realized that he should probably change the baby’s onesie, since he’d been wearing it for almost days. It looked like it had gotten the Alfred cleaning treatment, but still.

He carefully worked the garment off of Superbaby, pulling his chubby arms out of the arm holes. He was pretty big, but compared to Superman’s hands he looked miniature. Lois leaned over the back of the couch to peer at him.

“What’s his name?” she asked. Clark blinked.

“S—Conner.”

“Conner Kent, or does he have a different last name?” she added.

“Conner Kent,” Clark replied without thinking.

“Huh. And if he’s your cousin’s kid, why did you need to buy him new clothes? She asked, holding up a little blue sleeper. Clark took it from her and slid Superbaby’s legs into it.

“Their baggage got lost at the airport,” Clark finally said.

“Uh huh. Sure, Clark.”

“You want some dinner?” Clark asked, quickly changing the subject. Lois laughed.

“Sure, but don’t think I’ll forget about your new miracle baby. I mean, he’s sitting right here. What are we going to eat?”

“I have melted ice cream,” Clark offered, bouncing the superbaby on his hip and then lowering him with the care that he would an armed bomb into the playpen.

“So, order Chinese?” Lois said, pulling her laptop off the counter as Clark marveled at Superbaby struggling to fight the inevitable pull of sleep.

“Yeah, that sounds good,” Clark replied.

 

-SB-

 

Back in Gotham city, at manor of everyone’s favorite billionaire, Dick Grayson was doing his homework. Well, that was probably a story most people would believe. He was in fact doing homework assigned to him by Batman, which involved a lot of pushups and practicing his combat flips (again).

The door opened and Bruce wandered into the room with a newspaper in hand, dodging out of the way of the kick that Dick aimed at his head without bothering to look up. Dick stepped up his game by incorporating flips and punches, until Bruce was forced to drop the newspaper to pin him.

“Did you drop off Superbaby?” Dick asked, bouncing back to his feet when Bruce let him up. Bruce nodded. “And what did Clark say?”

“Not much.”

“You think we’ll find him on the doorstep tomorrow morning?”

“We better not.”

 

-SB-

 

After they had eaten, and argued as quietly as possible about the story and finally gotten things done, Lois had left Clark alone with the clone, who stayed miraculously asleep the entire time. Clark sat on the couch watching TV with the volume turned way down, glancing periodically at his little head of curly dark hair, and his pudgy cheeks.

He was going to need a crib. Was there even space in his bedroom for one? And was he supposed to get a stroller? What was he going to do when he needed to go back to work? No. That was ridiculous. It wasn’t like Superbaby was his son, regardless of what Bruce tired to insist. He was a clone, made from stolen DNA, and Clark would just need to get the league to handle things. They would find him a foster family. Or one of the leaguers who had more time on their hands could take care of him.

Clark moved to stand up, intent to reach for his cellphone, when the superbaby stirred and grumbled in his sleep, and Clark was forced to stand frozen, halfway off the couch. Just when it seemed like it would be safe to stand up, Superbaby’s eyes cracked open, and then squinched shut again when he opened his mouth to start wailing. This was directly followed by the tenant in the apartment below him banging a broomhandle on the ceiling. He glared through the floor at the old woman (although she couldn’t see him) and picked the clone up out of the playpen. Superbaby hiccupped and clung to Clark’s shirt, glaring at him.

This was unfair. He was out of his depth, and he certainly did not have time for a baby. Suddenly a memory bubbled unexpectedly to the surface of his mind. His mother opening an album of baby photos, and showing him a picture of him that looked nigh identical to the clone in his arms, although he hadn’t had a scowl like the one that the baby was wearing now.

“You were so cute when we found you, all chubby and sweet. You were fast asleep, but boy did you start crying when we woke you up.”

Where would he be today if the Kents had never taken him in? If they’d pawned him off on a foster home? Clark sighed.

“Did I wake you up?” he said, eliciting further glares from the baby. “Are you hungry?”

He wasn’t expecting much of a response and all he got was a wobbly lower lip and an expression that threatened further tears, so he walked over to the counter to fumble with the formula, which as it turns out, is no easy task when you have only one hand free. He glanced at the clock. It was already midnight, and it was probably going to be a long night. 


	6. Chapter 6

The morning light filtered through the open shades of Clark Kent’s apartment window, falling on his sleeping form, sprawled over the couch, and on the playpen where baby Conner slept. There were dirty diapers and empty bottles on the floor. There were clean diapers spilled out over the side of the couch. Conner had his thumb in his mouth, and drool crusted on his face to match the puddle seeping onto the pillow where Clark’s head rested.

In the distance of the bedroom, which seemed a long way from where Clark wavered between sleep on the comfortable couch, an alarm sounded. It would have been muffled and barely audible to someone else, but Clark had spent a long time training himself to hear it, and it was loud. It was really loud. Super hearing was useful a lot of the time, but not at that moment. Clark jumped up from the couch and thudded into the bedroom to shut off the alarm. As he sat on his bed, rubbing his eyes and trying to compose himself, a loud wail came from the living room, and he found himself skidding back out of his bedroom only to see his clone standing up in the playpen and rocking it back and forth as he cried. Snot was dripping from his nose and tears were rolling down his cheeks.

“Ahh, calm down,” Clark moaned, picking him up before he pitched himself onto the ground. Once in his arms, the superbaby gave a little sob and then sniffled. “I guess you have pretty good hearing too,” Clark mused aloud. The baby’s lip wobbled again, threatening further tears. “Breakfast, maybe?” he offered.

Clark was trying to coax his clone into eating another spoonful of mashed banana while thinking about ways to potentially humiliate Bruce or Batman as payback, when the horrible realization of what his alarm was supposed to do kicked in. Remind him to go to work. Right. But it wasn’t like he could drop the clone at a daycare, he thought, watching the superbaby bend another one of his metal spoons and giggle. He took it back, glaring, and bent it pointedly back into shape. The baby just clapped his hands, like Clark was doing a great trick. He used the opportunity to get the superbaby to eat some more of the banana.

And who in the league would be willing to babysit on such short notice? He glanced up at the clock. There was nothing for it. He’d have to bring the clone to work, and try to call in for help. Surely somebody would be willing to take the baby off his hands for a few hours.

Clark quickly grabbed his glasses, stuffed some diapers and bottles of formula into a bag, changed the superbaby into a fresh onesie, and poured some coffee into his traveler mug. Halfway down the block the clone knocked it out of his hands and it spilled over the sidewalk. Clark picked it up, cursed Batman, Cadmus and his traveler mug’s flimsy lid. He’d have to drink the workplace coffee, which was terrible. The baby in his arms sighed, snuggling closer. Clark took a deep breath. He would work, he would make desperate phone calls to the league, he would get through the day.

The elevator was thankfully empty, because he was late probably, but the office was loud and bright. He looked to the clone, who was clinging to his shirt but looking around. Clark was half expecting him to burst into tears, but he seemed interested in everything from the ceiling lights to the whirr of the photocopier. Clark carried him over to his desk and turned on his computer, trying not to catch the eyes of any of his curious coworkers. He could already see some of them poking their heads over their cubicles, looking equally thrilled and intrigued at the first whiff of a scandal. They were reporters after all, what did Clark expect?

On his lap, the Superbaby slapped his little palms on the desk, putting minute dents in the soft false wood. Clark quickly pulled his little arms away and searched frantically for something to distract him.

“Hey, easy on the desk. Play with… uhh, here, my travel mug that you like so much,” Clark said. The baby accepted the cup and gummed on the lid with his few teeth. When Clark looked up, Lois Lane was smirking at him from the other side of his desk.

“Well well. Is your cousin still out of town? You know, I was kidding last night, but he really does look uncannily like you. You hiding a secret baby momma at your apartment? At least spill who the lucky lady is.”

“There’s no lucky lady. I told you, he’s—”

“Right, right, your cousin. Fine. I’m dropping it. For now,” Lois said.

“So you couldn’t get a sitter or something? We have work, you know. Perry is going to be pissed.”

Clark sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. People could say what they wanted about invulnerability. Sure, the common cold was no threat to him, but any rumors about Superman being immune to headaches were decidedly false.

“Yeah, I know,” he said. Lois shook her head sadly and turned to walk away, but she paused.

“Hey, Clark? I know my reputation might suggest otherwise, but I can keep a secret. In case you ever feel like talking.”

Clark watched her walk away and reached into his jacket to pull out his JLA comm. He bounced his knee idly, and the Superbaby giggled and waved the traveler mug around. Clark felt a smile tug at his lips. He was wasting work time and he had no coffee. But he was smiling. Wonders would never cease. He scrolled through the list of contacts and started making calls. Unfortunately for him, most of the heroes were busy at work, either league or the kind Clark was currently falling behind on. Eventually he gave in and dialed someone he figured would pick up for sure.

“Hey big blue, what’s shakin’?” a familiar teen voice practically cackled.

“Dick. What would you say if I needed a favor?”

“I’d say today is a day off school and Bruce ditched me to go to a Wayne industries meeting. Then I’d ask if I’m gonna have to change.”

“If you’re already in plainclothes then no. I have to work, and I need someone to take the clo—you know who.”

“Ooh, I don’t know, Bruce gave me some pretty strict instructions about not doing that.”

“Come on. This is my livelihood. I’ve gotta work, and I can hardly drop him at daycare. Just this once, Dick, please.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone, longer than Dick ever let occur in conversation. And then, with none of his usual energy, he asked,

“If I watch him for you, are you going to still take him back at the end of the day?”

Clark was stunned. He blinked across the room, unseeing. In his lap, the Superbaby dropped the traveler mug and then squirmed around to tug on his shirt, clearly growing bored.

“Yes. I hardly have a choice, do I?” he said without really thinking. Again, there was no sound from the other side.

“Okay, fine. But it’ll take me a while to get into Metropolis.”

“Thanks Dick. I owe you one,” Clark said gratefully. There was a click on the other end.

-SB-

Dick looked down at his communicator and frowned. When his parents died, and before Bruce showed up at their funeral to save him, there was this space of time where he was utterly unmoored. When he’d sat at up at top of that platform, the trapeze still hanging flimsily in the air, and Dick just sitting, unable to look down for fear of what he would see and never forget.

Then he had sat beside the white sheets with two shapes underneath, and never peeked under, even though he could have and not gotten caught, for fear of what he might have to wake up to every horrible sweaty night for the rest of his life. But just because he didn’t look, didn’t mean he escaped the nightmares. And the first night, which he spent in a room in some government facility, he had dreamed of being happy, woken up and cried silently, staring up at the ceiling. It was there that it hurt the most. Where he was totally alone, and he thought over and over of what it was to no longer have anyone. No mother, no father, no one to bandage cuts and no one to call him dumb cute nicknames or sew his costume and complain about him never brushing his hair.

And the day of their funeral, he’d gotten some of that back. He had Alfred and Bruce and the manor. They were there to insist he do his homework, and tell him he was too young to drink coffee, and there was not a day he wasn’t thankful that they were. They were enough to fill the gaping holes. And the fact that Clark was so ready to let Superboy be alone and parentless like Dick had once been, well, it showed how he could never understand. Bruce understood. Dick understood, and it hurt. He didn’t want Superbaby to ever remember being totally alone, with no one to turn to.


	7. Chapter 7

Alfred bustled into the kitchen to pick up the breakfast dishes, and paused without even looking over.

“Something bothering you, Master Dick?”

Dick almost laughed. He certainly grinned. Anyone who said Alfred didn’t have superpowers was wrong, because he was totally psychic.

“I’m worried Superman is being an even bigger baby than his actual baby clone.”

“I’m sure you could make him see things your way. You’re a very persuasive person,” Alfred said slyly, plucking Dick’s empty orange juice glass from the table.

“Thanks, Alfred,” Dick said, hopping down from the table and heading for the doorway.

“I take it you’re going out?”

“Got business in Metropolis,” Dick called over his shoulder. He grinned as he pulled on his sneakers and slid on a pair of shades. Not that he needed to be incognito or anything. He just felt like they added a little something to his look. Getting to Metropolis b y bus would have taken at least an hour, but Dick just got one of the company’s private drivers to take him. Bruce didn’t need to know about it. And if he did, Dick had an excuse. He was technically helping out Superman. Helping him shirk his responsibility as a parent, but still.

When he arrived at the daily planet, Dick took the elevator up and glowered at Jimmy near the front desk. They had an ongoing argument over who was better; Superman or Batman. Jimmy glared right back, holding up a picture of Superman saving a grandmother and her grandchildren from a burning building. Dick pointed to a newspaper he had brought, where the front page story was Batman uncovering a massive drug ring. Jimmy narrowed his eyes, and Dick walked past him.

The drug ring thing was totally more impressive. He ambled up to Clark’s desk, glad that he had followed Bruce to the daily planet enough times when he gave in and let them have interviews. In fact, one of the first times he’d ever been there had been the story on Bruce Wayne, billionaire playboy, adopting a young boy. Alfred had stuffed him into a suit for the first of what would turn out to be too many times to count. Dick shuddered. Clark was typing one handed at his desk, and absently plucking various items out of his clone’s hands as he did, balancing the baby on his lap. A stapler, a letter opener, a stack of important looking papers that were spilling over the floor, okay, Dick understood why he had asked for help.

When he got closer to the desk Clark looked up and saw him, and practically jumped out of his chair.

“Oh, thank god,” he exclaimed, holding up the Superbaby. Dick walked over reluctantly and took the heavy and squirming baby. He gave Clark a look over his sunglasses, which was spoiled by the baby immediately pulling them off and tossing them to the floor.

“Well, I guess I’ll take him to the park or something,” Dick said.

“You’re seriously a lifesaver,” Clark said emphatically. He leaned a little closer. “Everyone in the league was busy.”

“I’ll be back to drop him off in three hours, so get some work done,” Dick said coldly. He propped the baby on his hip and took the bag that Clark held out to him, and then walked out of the building under the stares of everyone in the office.

Clark dropped back into his chair and sighed.

“Getting Bruce Wayne’s spoiled kid to cover your butt?” a voice behind him drawled.

“Lois, I couldn’t get anyone else on such short notice. And you know Bruce and I are old friends.”

“Right of course. You know though, eventually you’ll have to cut it with the whole cousin routine and tell me who his secret mom is,”

Clark said nothing, and Lois walked away. Maybe she was right, he thought. Maybe he needed to just… his thoughts trailed off as he stared out the window. In the streets below, a robbery was taking place, and the criminals were about to get away. He got up from his chair and headed for the elevators.

Moments later he was handing the bruised but generally fine criminals over to the Metropolis police.

“Gee, Superman, I don’t know what the city would do without you,” a young policman said. Superman smiled.

“Just doing my civic duty,” he replied, flying off. The breeze caught his cape and ruffled his hair, and he breathed deeply as he soared, trying to forget all the issues of the day. He was needed as Superman. And he didn’t have time to be a parent and a superhero at once. Besides, he wasn’t a parent anyways. Superbaby was barely what you could call related to him, and he certainly wasn’t his son. Just then, his JLA communicator went off. He answered it quickly, seeing that it was Batman only a moment too late.

“Don’t think I don’t know where Dick is right now.”

“Do you have tracking devices on him or something?”

“If you can’t take responsibility I will find someone else to, but first I want you to really consider what you’re doing to that child.”

Superman frowned. “He’s not even my son. And I don’t have time to be a parent and a superhero.”

“That’s funny. I manage to,” was all Batman said before the line went dead. The breeze ruffled Superman’s hair again, but somehow it wasn’t as invigorating as before.

-SB-

The mothers in the Metropolis cental park were certainly more than a little surprsied. Dick had taken his sunglasses off to watch Superbaby, and was holding his small hands and helping him take a few wobbly steps.

“Isn’t that Dick Grayson?”

“The adopted son of the Gotham billionaire? What is he doing in Metropolis?”

“No, what is he doing in the park?”

“No, whose baby is that?”

“He can’t be Bruce’s.”

“Why not? We all know that the man gets around.”

Dick glanced up at the mothers and frowned, then looked back down at his small charge, who was really not getting the whole walking thing yet. He managed to stand for a moment, and then plopped down onto his padded butt. Dick chuckled, but kept it carefully amused rich kid, and not his elated Robin laugh.

“It’s hard being famous,” Dick said quietly, half-joking. The Superbaby giggled and waved his hands a him. “You want up again? Oh man. This is worse than regular strength training,” Dick complained, but he picked the kid up anyways and checked his watch.

“Almost time to take you back,” Dick said, and hoped silently tha Superman would have finally gotten his head screwed on straight. And also that he wasn’t going to be in huge trouble for defying Batman. In response, the Superbaby drooled on his shoulder. “Thanks buddy, I appreciate that,” Dick said. The baby yawned sleepily and snuggled closer, so Dick retreated to one of the benches to sit down.

He watched the afternoon sun drifting through the painfully blue sky. Metropolis was so different than Gotham, in both weather and avergae number of people screaming at any given moment. He would say he found it relaxing, but it was actually deeply unnerving. He glanced at his watch again, and then got up from the bench. Whether he wanted to or not, It was time to face the man of steel. And he had better be ready to act like a man of steel and not a baby.


	8. Chapter 8

Clark was just finishing up his work when Dick walked up and plopped the superbaby on his desk, where he immediately tipped over a mug of pens and started investigating Clark’s paperwork. He snatched him off before further damage could be done, only to be met with ear-splitting shrieks in response.

  
“Um, thanks, Dick,” he muttered, awkwardly trying to comfort the screaming child. People were looking up from their desks and Lois had turned away from her photocopying to raise an eyebrow at him, so he grabbed his jacket and hurried out of the office. Dick followed him lightly, his steps almost silent even to Superman’s ears.

  
“Bruce doesn’t want me to say this,” Dick began as soon as they left the building. The superbaby had finally quieted down, and Clark blinked at Dick in surprise. He usually didn’t sound so serious, nor did he speak so directly. “But you don’t have to take care of him,” he continued. For a moment, a glimmer of hope gleamed in Clark’s eyes. Of course he didn’t. The league would understand how busy he was, how he certainly didn’t have time to be a single parent…But Dick wasn’t finished.

  
“However, you do have to choose. You can’t act like this kid’s dad one minute and someone who doesn’t even know him the next. Either decide now that you’re going to be a parent, or give him up. We’ll find him a home. Or take him ourselves. But if we do, you have to know that you will never get him back,” Dick said flatly. Something in his eyes, darker and colder than Clark had ever seen them, reminded him that Dick and Bruce weren’t so different after all. They had similar pasts, and similar wounds. Clark choked on his words trying to find the right thing to say. Asleep with his little head resting on Clark’s chest, the superbaby fisted his tiny hand in Clark’s shirt, with a grip tight enough to tear the fabric. Something in Clark’s heart melted, and he realized that he was wrong the whole time.

  
“Oh great, Bruce was right again,” he said weakly. Dick broke into a grin.

  
“I take it you’re voting yes on being a responsible adult?” he asked.

  
“Hey, if anything this is the irresponsible choice. I don’t know anything about being a parent.”

  
“You’ve already changed diapers. Besides, if Bruce can do it, why can’t you?” Dick said. Clark knew he was being baited. And yet. “Well, I’m getting back to Gotham. I have homework, and Alfred is probably making cookies, so I’m not missing that.”

  
“I think I have to buy baby stuff,” Clark said dazedly. Dick laughed, reaching up to pat him on the wrist.

  
“Yeah. You do.” Then he vanished into the crowd, just like his mentor was prone to (annoyingly) doing. Clark sighed. He needed to buy baby stuff. Great.

  
“One more thing,” Dick said, turning back. “He has a name, right?”

  
“Um, Conner.”

  
“Conner. Okay. Good.”

  
-SB-

As it turned out, buying baby stuff wasn’t as terrible as Clark thought it was going to be. He picked out toys Conner seemed to like, chose a crib small enough to fit in his apartment, and grabbed clothes with the sturdiest seams. Buying it all was relatively simple, assembling the crib and highchair on the other hand, was not. He was knee deep in tiny confusing parts and splitting his attention at all times to make sure Conner didn’t crawl into the mess and start swallowing screws when he finally gave up and called Lois. She laughed into the phone, and then said that she was coming over with lasagna.

  
“It’s store bought,” were the first words out of her mouth when she presented it at the door. Clark raised an eyebrow and then immediately put it back down as he grabbed Conner before he could crawl into the hallway. Thwarted is his adventure plans, he immediately burst into tears. Clark wanted to do the same.

  
“When someone has a baby, you always bring lasagna. But I didn’t have time to cook,” Lois explained, stepping past Clark and setting the aforementioned pasta dish on the counter.

  
“I don’t have a baby—” Clark started to say, but he was holding one in his arms and he’d just begged Lois for help assembling a crib. It was time to throw in the towel and figure out how to be a super parent, he supposed. If Bruce could do it, why couldn’t he?

  
“I wonder if he’s going to interfere with your hero duties that much,” Lois said, hoisting herself up onto the counter and kicking off her heels. “Pass him over,” she added, holding out her arms. Clark stared at her.

  
“My what?”

  
“Oh Clark. I’m an investigative journalist. And I’m not blind, either,” Lois sighed. She wiggled her fingers at Clark, and he handed Conner over, stunned.

  
“How long…?”

  
“Pretty much since I met you. I mean, come on. I kept up the ruse because I didn’t want to make you lose your cool. You are a pretty big deal as far as saving people goes. If it makes you feel any better, you have everyone else fooled. Yesterday at the watercooler they were debating whether or not big blue is one of Martian Manhunter’s many disguises.” Lois bounced Conner on her knee. He didn’t stop crying, but he certainly looked confused.

  
“You really are a great journalist. Um, and a good friend. Thanks for keeping my secret,” Clark said. Lois grinned.

  
“Now that we have all that out of way, is he your kid, or not?” she said, pointing to Conner. Clark swallowed.

  
“It’s not all that clean cut. He’s my clone. I’m… I’m taking responsibility of him.”

  
“So he’s a baby super?” Lois asked. Clark nodded. “Good. It isn’t just normal people who need saving you know.”

  
“Believe me, I do. And to answer your earlier question, do you think Young Justice might be open to babysitting? I can’t exactly quit my job.”

  
“One thing at a time. Let’s do the crib first,” Lois advised. They turned on the TV to distract Conner, and Lois was certainly better at reading the instructions, or a least, telling Clark what to do. When they were finally almost finished with the crib the TV flipped to a breaking newscast. A giant, rogue LexCorp robot was rampaging the downtown area. Clark looked at Lois sheepishly.

  
“Go. I’ll watch him. But don’t think I’m your babysitter now. I have work to do!” Lois called after him. He was already out the window though, flying towards the fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took to terribly long. School started and I got incredibly busy.


	9. Chapter 9

Clark was trying to pick the sturdiest baby clothing in a store full of frilly baby dresses what seemed to be infinite soft animals, when Conner patted him and pointed at a table of stuffed bunnies. Clark was trying to test the strength of a pair of small overalls without actually tearing them in half, so he just bounced Conner on his hip and said, “Hmm.”

“Da. Dad,” Conner said insistently, pointing at the bunnies. Clark froze, and glanced down at Conner. Part of him wanted to correct him. Part of him wanted to hear it again. No, a thousand more times.

“The bunnies?” Clark asked weakly, walking over and crouching down so Conner could reach out and pluck one of the bunnies from the table.

“You want that?” Clark asked. Conner nodded excitedly, squeezing the bunny’s ears. Clark hoped he didn’t tear it in half, and went back to trying to do the same with the overalls. He picked the most rugged clothing he could find, and tried to get some shoes, but found that Conner refused to wear them. It was just as well, Clark supposed. He’d never really seen the point of those tiny baby shoes. He’d push the issue when Conner was old enough to walk. Which was probably not so far off, he realized with terror.

When they were back home, Clark started making dinner and let Connor play in the kitchen. He was tapping wooden spoons on the floor and so far not breaking them, when Clark accidentally knocked a jar of baby food off the counter. He reached out to catch it, but realized that he didn’t need to. It was hovering in the air, held in place. Conner was staring up at the jar, face furrowed in concentration.

“Conner?” Clark asked slowly. Conner blinked and dropped the jar. Clark caught it before it hit the ground and set it back on the counter. Okay. So he needed to find out what information Batman had from Cadmus. Because he’d sure never used any kind of telekinesis. Conner, feeling like he’d done something wrong was just starting to cry, and Clark was scooping him up from the floor when the phone rang.

“Mom? This really isn’t a great time,” Clark tried to say, but it was too late. She’d have to deaf not to hear Conner crying.

“Clark, is that a baby? What’s going on? Do you have something to tell me?”  
There was no saying no to Martha Kent. That was how Clark ended up putting on the suit and a baby carrier, and flying out of metropolis as gently and inconspicuously as possible. When he touched down at the farm Martha came hurrying out of the house and then stopped. Superman was taking Conner out of the baby carrier, trying to get him to stop wailing. It wasn’t that he disliked flying, he’d loved it. It was not flying that he hated.

“Oh my lord. Clark, what happened?” Martha gasped. She took Conner out of Superman’s hands without asking, and started bouncing him in her arms. “He’s as heavy as you,” she laughed. “Now come into the house and explain yourself.”

He followed her inside, and they sat down in the living room. Conner was absolutely enchanted and shocked. He stared at everything. The books, the pictures on the mantle, the empty coffee cups on the table, the rug on the floor.

“It’s not what you think,” Superman started by saying. Martha raised her eyebrows at him. “Well, I mean. He’s my clone. And my son, now,” he said awkwardly.

“Of course. I guess I knew I was never going to get ordinary grandchildren. Actually, I didn’t think I was going to get any. So what’s his name?” Martha cooed.

“Conner.”

“Good choice. Now go get changed out of your suit, and we’ll have dinner. There’s clean clothing on your bed if you forgot.” Clark had, and he thanked her. Pa Kent came in for dinner, and he was surprised to say the least, but no less happy. Clark felt silly for how immature he’d acted before. And Conner, who would only allow other people to hold him for so long, fell asleep on Clark’s lap mid-way through dinner.

“Tiring day?” Martha asked. Clark nodded.

“For both of you, I bet. Now you know how we felt,” Jonathan said. Clark suddenly felt more grateful to them than ever before. Martha sent him home with some old baby clothes (that she guaranteed could stand up to anything) and a few slices of pie. At the door, after she hugged him, she smiled down at Conner.

“You know, if things get too busy for you, you can always call me to babysit.”

“Really?”

“Well, if I get to have a grandson all of a sudden, you can’t blame me for wanting to show him off a little. And snag a few more opportunities to squeeze his adorable cheeks. But Clark, wherever he came from, I want you to be careful of,” Martha told him. Superman frowned.

“Why?”

“They might want him back.” Clark returned home with that chilling thought running through his mind over and over. When he arrived home, he took off the cape and costume, and laid Conner, who had mercifully fallen asleep on the flight home, down in his crib. Anyone who wanted to take Superbaby would have Superman to contend with, Clark thought, and smiled a little. Then he got his justice league communicator. Normally he’d just call Bruce, but he really needed to talk to Batman.

Fortunately, he was more likely to answer at night than during the day.

“Batman here.”  
“I need to look at the Superbaby’s files from Cadmus. Anything you’ve got. Everything you’ve got.”

“What happened.” Batman asked, although it sounded nothing like a question. Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “Superman.”

“He has… unexpected powers. I really need to look at those files.”

“I’ll get Robin to send them over. In fact, I can get him to bring them over,” Batman said. In the background, Clark heard a familiar voice cry out: “What? Why?”

“You don’t have to do that,” Clark started to say, feeling slightly like he might have gotten Robin in trouble. He had a knack for that.

“He’ll zeta over in civvies and drop them off. Batman out.”

Clark collapsed on the couch and tried to think if he knew anything about Kryptonians having telekinesis, but nothing came to mind. There was a sharp knock on the door, and he opened it to see Dick Grayson looking tired and somewhat annoyed. He had a file folder tucked under his arm.

“Come on in,” Clark said. 

“I’d say I can’t stay, but I actually think I should tell you this myself. Bats and I were going to call you about these files anyways, but he said it was better to say in person,” Dick said, ushering Clark to sit down on the couch.

“What is it?” he asked.

“The Superbaby isn’t your clone,” Dick said. Clark blinked at him.

“That’s impossible, he looks just like me,” Clark said.

“Yeah, he isn’t. Cloning a Kryptonian with human technology is actually kind of impossible. Cadmus had to throw some human DNA into the mix to get it to work. Superbaby isn’t your clone, he’s your biological son,” Dick told him. Clark was suddenly glad that he was sitting down already.


	10. Chapter 10

Grocery shopping used to be something Clark did once every few weeks. Now it seemed to take up more spare time than rescuing Lois. Which was pretty hard. He had resorted to flying with the baby monitor if Conner was asleep. He shuffled down the aisle, rubbing his eyes. In the cart, Conner blinked interestedly at the colorful shelves. Clark was still reeling from what Dick had told him a week prior. Conner was his son, biologically speaking. A Kryptonian and human hybrid. No wonder he seemed to have strange powers.

Clark had looked through the recovered Cadmus files, but he hadn’t found much. The project was, at the time, considered a failure, the object being to create a cloned and controllable superman weapon. If he didn’t show the appropriate powers after aging, Conner was going to be… they called it deleted, or disposed of. It made Clark shiver with a kind of rage he had never felt before. As for who the second “donor” of DNA was, there was no information to be found.

Clark snapped out of his thoughts to see Conner pulling a colorful box of cereal off of the shelf, and grabbed it before it fell over.

“Ah, we don’t need that, we need diapers,” Clark said, quickly pushing the cart away before Conner could start crying. He started crying anyways. Over the sound of angry wails, Clark heard something approaching. Something… huge. He barely had to push the cart, with Conner in it, out of harms way before the wall of the grocery store had been blown open and a robot he recognized as belonging to one Lex Luthor was climbing into the store. Thankful that he had decided to wear his suit under his clothes today (even though that made him feel a little paranoid) he quickly pulled off his clothes and glasses, tossing them aside and hoping he might be able to retrieve them later.

When he looked up he felt his blood run cold. The robot, rather than going straight for Superman, was reaching down, almost gently, and lifting Superbaby out of the cart, still wailing and kicking his legs.

“NO!” Clark yelled, but before he could move, a telekinetic blast almost knocked him backwards. He waved smoke away from his face and flew forward, only to find Conner, still wailing, sitting in the leftover sparking parts of the destroyed robot. Superman picked him up quickly and rocked him against his chest. Not wanting to answer any questions from the press, he took to the air, and from above Metropolis, shushed Conner until his crying finally turned to hiccups, and eventually, he fell asleep.

When he knew that Conner was fine, he felt a kind of rage take him over. Lex Luthor attacking Superman was one thing. But a baby? His son? Even Lex rarely played that dirty. So he decided to arrive by window.

“Ah, I was wondering when you’d get here,” Lex drawled from his desk. He’d moved it again, this time a ways away from the window, as if he had anticipated how Superman would arrive.

“So you’re fine with attacking kids now?” Superman asked. Lex chuckled.

“Attacking? I think not. I would never instruct my robots to harm one of my own.”

“One of your own?”

“Why of course. He is, after all, my son.”  
“Your son?”

“The justice tykes kidnapped him from Cadmus before I could even meet him, so I decided to take action.”

“You were the other donor.” In Superman’s arms, Conner stirred.

“I want to hold him,” Lex announced. 

“No,” Superman replied, holding Conner closer and tensing to fly out the window.

“No tricks, honest. I just want to hold my son.”

“You were about to kidnap him with a robot.”

“And give him back after I had assessed that he was doing well. He shouldn't have been able to survive leaving the pod so soon.”

“He might not have survived at all! I looked into it myself. If he didn't display the right powers he was going to be killed!”

“I would never have let that happen. Some idiot on the project must have written that in.”

“Some idiot on the project? Are you saying it wasn't your idea?”

“I admit sometimes my partners’ schemes can be a little hard to go along with, but I assist as I can. In this case, I didn’t necessarily look closely enough into what the DNA was required for until… well, until Cadmus was on fire.” Luthor’s eyes narrowed. Superman realized how furious Lex must be. In his arms Superman was holding Conner, who was sleeping fitfully, strong and full of potential, sharing a part of Luthor’s DNA. A son and heir the likes of which Luthors seemed to dream of. And modeled after, and sharing the genetics, of his greatest enemy and hatred. Lex’s son, part Kryptonian. Who would ever have thought?

“You’re still not holding him,” Superman said stubbornly. Lex glared.

“He’s my son, you can either let me hold him or I can sue you into letting me hold him,” Luthor said. They stared at each other angrily for a long moment. Then finally, Superman let himself drop down so his feet no longer hovered off the floor. He walked the space between him and Luthor and handed him into Lex’s waiting arms.

“If you try anything, I swear…”

“Relax,” Lex said, bouncing Conner lightly in his arms. An expression took over his face that Superman had never seen before. He couldn’t really call it happy, and it didn’t look like the kind of evil satisfaction that he was used to. It was sort of enraptured. “He looks nothing like me,” Lex said, and it was unclear whether he was disappointed or not. Superman wasn’t sure what to say. “And he’s heavy,” Lex added.

“Yeah. His powers aren’t the same as mine,” Superman found himself blurting out. Lex looked up at him, green eyes wide with surprise. “He uses some kind of telekinetic field, when he wants to.” Lex looked intrigued, but he said nothing on the subject.

“I suppose it’s too late to give him a name.”

“Conner.”

“It isn’t terrible. I’ll have some documents drawn up,” Luthor said, handing Conner back and walking to his desk. “You may go.” Superman frowned at him.

“Documents?”

“Yes, I’ll be in touch.” Luthor waved his hand towards the broken window. Superman decided to just count himself lucky that he wasn’t being asked to pay for the window, and fly home. Instead of flying straight back to his apartment though, he flew to a rooftop he didn’t know and sat holding Connor and staring down at a face that looked like his once had, marveling at how his life had changed so instantly, how the axis of the world had just shifted when he realized his family had another member, one small and nearly defenseless, and one who had a probably litigious super villain parent lurking in the background.

After a little while, it got cool on the roof, and Clark remembered he never did finish getting groceries, so he really headed for home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I never mentioned this before, but (for anyone who didn't know) in the original character conception for Superboy, and now in the new 52, his power was tactile telekinesis, and he could use it to imitate Superman's powers to some degree. Anyways, I always thought that was a sweet idea, but there are certain parts of the new 52 story that are neither as cool nor as hilarious as young justice and old canon. So I decided to mix the two up a bit.


	11. Chapter 11

Clark has always loved Christmas. It’s the holiday that makes him feel like a kid again, more than any other. This year, he feels old. In the months since Conner came to live with him a lot of things have happened to make him feel older, but the most important two would be Lex starting a public custody battle (Superman v.s. Luthor for the custody of Superbaby) and Conner learning to walk. Which was a happy thing, but also very, very tiring. And terrifying, for example when he figured out he could climb onto the balcony railing to try to “fly like dada.” Sure, he didn’t bruise as easily as your average toddler, but Clark wasn’t interested in testing the progress of his invulnerability by dropping him off a building.

Although the looming court date where he’d go head to head with Lex was certainly adding to Clark’s stress load, he couldn’t help but feel sort of grateful to Lex. Along with the letter from a very expensive lawyer, he had delivered a birth certificate that clearly took a lot of palm-greasing to get. And not only had it been delivered to Clark, the name on it was Conner Kent. Maybe Lex just couldn’t deny the musical lilt the alliteration lent to Conner’s name. Or maybe it was something else.   
Whatever the reason, Clark was pleased. Not that he’d really needed the birth certificate. He assumed any vaccinations Conner needed had been administered at Cadmus, and he didn’t seem to have any other health problems. He’d need a birth certificate eventually though, to get a passport or a driver’s license or something else adult that it weirded Clark out to think about Conner needing, especially when he was trying to coax him to eat another of spoonful of cheerios and wiping drool of his face.

Even with the court case and being woken up at two a.m. at least twice a week, and trying to ignore how many cheerios had been ground into his carpet by now, Clark was excited for Christmas. Tired, but excited. Normally after rescuing Lois she’d con him into flying a huge tree back to her apartment, but this year she seemed to be taking pity on him. That is, Clark thought as much until Christmas eve, when he heard a very distinctive knock at the door.

“Lois?” Conner asked, dropping a block he’d been chewing on.

“I hope not,” Clark mumbled under his breath, although he didn’t really mean it. Lois was at the door, grinning and holding up a frozen turkey.

“I brought a holiday feast!” She said.

“An uncooked feast,” Clark grumbled, letting her in.

“I sort of thought you’d gone home for the holidays, boy scout.”

“Ma and Pa are on a cruise.”

“They deserve it. Whatcha got there, kid?” Lois asked, handing Clark the turkey and crouching down to investigate Conner’s small block pile. Conner levitated a block up to her.

“Apple!” he told Lois brightly. She plucked the block out of the air.

“That sure is what A is for. Make it a story you’d wanna read in the papers though.”

“Apple… fire?” Conner said questioningly. Lois snapped her fingers triumphantly.

“Attaboy. We’ll make a journalist of you yet.”

“Stop corrupting him and come help me with the turkey.”

“Keep working on that one, it’s a front-pager,” Lois instructed Conner, who went back to chewing on the blocks. Cooking with Lois was never easy, because she was as fearless in her risk taking in the kitchen as she was in the field, but they managed to get the turkey in the oven properly. They were debating a viable alternative to cranberry sauce that could be made with the contents of Clark’s fridge when there was a humongous crunching sound from the floor and Conner let out a huge wail.

Clark whirled around to see one cracked half of the B is for Bear block, and he immediately crouched down and extricated the splintery other half from Conner’s mouth, gently pulling out the little pieces of wood. They hadn’t stabbed him fortunately, he was just startled. He pulled Conner into his arms and felt his shirt get damp as Conner buried his face into it and sobbed.

“He’s going to need tougher blocks,” Clark said, gritting his teeth against the wave of relief mingled with apprehension washing over him.

“You said it. Maybe Santa will bring some,” Lois agreed. They ate their slap-dash Christmas feast and talked about work, diaper brands, and how Lois’s new ex was terrible.

“I gotta get a party up town, rumor is the governor is going to do something very scandalous,” Lois said, tugging her coat on. Conner was asleep in his playpen, tired out from all the Christmas excitement and the trauma of discovering he was stronger than his wooden blocks.

“He’s so precious,” Lois sighed. “Makes me almost want one of my own.”

“Almost?” Clark chuckled.

“Well, first I have to find Mr. Right,” Lois said. Then she was out the door. Clark carried Conner into the once-office-now-nursery and gently laid him down in his crib. Then he walked back to the couch and flicked on the TV to some horrible Christmas rom com. He’d been letting his eyes glaze over and paying mild attention to the romance for a few hours when there was a knock at the door. Clark peered through the door with x-ray vision, and was surprised to see Lex Luthor himself leaning on the door, his expensive coat undone and untied scarf hung loosely around his neck. Frowning, Clark got up off the couch and opened the door.

“Mr. Kent himself,” Lex said, slightly slurred. Clark was shocked.

“How did you get past the doorman?”

“By being Lex Luthor.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see Superman,” Lex drawled. Clark thought about how he wanted to play things, and then he gave up. If Lex knew, he knew.

“He isn’t home right now.”  
“Can I come in anyways?”

“Are you drunk?”

“Yes. Big shot parties are like that. Have you ever spoken to Bruce Wayne? God he’s boring. I can’t talk to him sober,” Lex told him. Clark let Lex stumble into his small apartment, tsk at his furniture and then collapse on his couch. Clark closed the door gently and came over to sit on the other side of the couch. Lex stared at the muted TV and said nothing. Then finally he asked, “Is he here?”

“He’s asleep,” Clark said, cocking his head towards the door. Lex nodded, looking down at his fingers, interlaced in his lap.

“I found out your secret identity two weeks ago,” Lex said. Clark didn’t ask how. It probably involved robots. “And then I didn’t do anything. Anything at all. I was… I was so repelled by the idea of him. When I found out it made my skin crawl. Half human, half Kryptonian. An abomination. An alien, just like you.” Lex dropped his head into his hands and heaved a sigh. “And then I saw him. And I held him. He’s so… impossible. How could I hate him? I don’t even know if I can hate you.”

“Don’t stop hating me. I’d miss you,” Superman joked. Lex snorted.

“I can’t hate you properly. Not like how I used to,” he said. They sat in silence for a while, staring at the muted TV. “Can I see him?” Lex asked quietly.

“He’s asleep.”

“I know. I don’t want to wake him up. I just… I want to see him.”

They went up to the door of Conner’s room, and opened the door gently. He was fast asleep in his crib, jet black hair plastered to his forehead and fingers curled around his bunny (which was already missing two legs). Lex leaned his head on the doorframe. They lingered there for a while, just watching Conner’s small chest rise and fall, until eventually Clark pulled Lex away and gently closed the door.

“You should probably call your driver,” Clark said.

“She’s waiting outside.” Lex followed Clark to the door and smiled at him, a half-druken, half-evil, all Luthor smile.

“Merry Christmas,” Clark said.

“Happy holidays,” Lex said, in a way that would have been brusque if he didn’t slur it. Clark watched him go.

On Christmas morning, Clark woke up to Conner crying. He hauled himself out of bed to retrieve the toddler from his crib and set him on the ground so he could scamper into the living room. Clark hadn’t put up a Christmas tree (because that would just be asking for it to fall over, but he had hung up a little stocking for Conner. Since regular plastic, and now wood, couldn’t withstand his strength, and small parts were both choking and levitation hazards, Clark had mostly filled it with oranges and candy canes. Conner was still excited and amused, and Clark left him levitating oranges from the floor to the couch to answer the door.

A delivery man, looking harried and nervous, offered him a heavy package with LuthorCorp markings. Clark x-rayed it while he signed for it, and took it inside.

“Your other dad got you something,” he announced to Conner, who looked up curiously. Clark opened the box and took out a set of alphabet cubes, identical to the old set with one minor difference—they were titanium. Conner was delighted.

That afternoon Clark took Conner up to Gotham. It had been tradition for years now that he spent Christmas day at Wayne manor. When he arrived Alfred told him that,

“Master Dick is upstairs resting, but Master Wayne is waiting in the drawing room.” The drawing room was home to a Christmas tree practically the size of Clark’s apartment. He was glad that Conner had fallen asleep on the way over, because every one of the ornaments looked priceless and very breakable.

“Dick’s upstairs asleep,” Bruce said when Clark entered the room.

“I heard. Tough mission?”

“The toughest,” Bruce sighed. Clark didn’t press for details. “By the way, I had this made. For Conner,” Bruce said, offering Clark a package obviously wrapped by Dick (he could tell by the excessive use of tape, and ribbon). Clark unwrapped it to find a very odd teddy bear inside.

“Is this… Kevlar?”

“With reinforced stitching,” Bruce said. Clark chuckled.

“It may not be the cuddliest, but it’s certainly tough. Kind of like Bruce,” Dick laughed, somersaulting into the room.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” Bruce said.

“I got sick of resting,” Dick sighed, cart wheeling onto the couch. “Hey, merry Christmas by the way.”

Clark grinned. “Yeah, merry Christmas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's kind of cheesy but I really wanted to do a Christmas chapter. Happy Holidays everyone, and Happy New Year!


	12. Chapter 12

“And you’re sure you guys have got this?” Superman asked again. Robin’s grin was in no way reassuring.

“Relax, Superdad. Me and the team have this un-der control,” He said, easily bouncing Conner in his arms. Superman sighed through his nose. Kid Flash wandered into the mount justice kitchen in his civvies, inhaling an apple.

“Superbaby? Robs, did you volunteer us to babysit?” he asked, arriving in a blur to squeeze one of Conner’s chubby cheeks.

“Actually we got volun-told. Superman is going to his court date.”

“Smash one too many walls or what?” Artemis said, entering with M’gann and Kaldur in tow. M’gann squealed and ran over to take Conner from Robin’s arms.

“I’m going. Take good care of Conner,” Superman said, and left quickly. Upon seeing his dad leave, Conner burst into tears, and M’gann bounced him desperately.

“We’re a hero team, not a daycare service,” Artemis complained.

“What do I do?” M’gann cried.

“No fear, I have a secret weapon.” Robin pulled a small stuffed bunny from his belt and waved it at Conner, who’s eyes grew wide. He grabbed for it and giggled. Robin handed it over with a grin.

“Does Bats teach super-baby skills as well?”

“I hung out with lots of kids at the—a while ago,” Robin said, part of his grin slipping. They walked over to the couch and sat down, plopping Conner in the middle.

“Is it okay if he chews on it?” M’gann asked anxiously.

“Don’t worry, it’s super-proof,” Robin assured her.

“So what exactly is Superman getting sued for?” Artemis asked.

“Custody,” Kaldur said. M’gann and Wally gawked.

“No way. So that means…” Wally trailed off.

“Superbaby has a mom?” M’gann gasped. Robin’s grin returned.

“Not exactly.”

“Is it Cadmus?” Artemis asked. Robin and Kaldur exchanged a look. Kaldur shrugged.

“Batman didn’t exactly tell us not to tell,” Robin tried.

“He did imply it,” Kaldur said.

“It’s Lex Luthor. He’s the second DNA donor,” Robin said. Everyone looked at Connor, who moments ago had been chewing on the bunny. Now he was levitating it in the air, his eyes glowing a faint red.

“Superman can’t do that,” M’gann said, slowly.

“Neither can Luthor,” Artemis said.

“Yeah, but when have human and Kryptonian DNA ever been mixed before?” Wally pointed out.

“You’re sure he’s half human and not half Martian or something?” Artemis asked.

“Bats checked the results three times.” No one said anything. Then there was a massive crash from somewhere towards the entrance.

“That sounded bad,” M’gann said.

“Wally, go see if you can check it out undetected. M’gann, scan for lifeforms,” Aqulad said, unsheathing his weapon. Artemis readied her bow as Wally took off.

“I’m not detecting any life forms,” M’gann said. There was another crash, and Kid Flash came speeding back.

“Robots, robots, robots!” he yelled. The wall came down after him, a one huge robot flanked by two smaller ones burst through. They were weaponized, and they looked angry. Well, giant deathbots usually looked angry. It was a kind of default expression. Robin backflipped out of the way of a heavy fist, plucking Superbaby from the floor as he did.

M’gann lifted one of the bots off the ground, ready to smash it into the wall when one of the others took a swing at her. Wally pulled her out of the way at the last second and Aqualad charged forward, bashing its head in with water hammers. Artemis fired an arrow into the eye of the other small robot, and before it could reach up to remove it, Robin’s batarang exploded. The robot crumpled to the ground like a heap of scrap metal.

The third robot advanced towards them. It was hulking and heavy. Robin’s three batarangs exploded but they barely even made a dent. Artemis’s arrows bounced off and Aqualad was knocked back as he leaped forwards. It smacked M’gann into a wall and advanced forwards, reaching out its hand for Superbaby.

“Oh heck no. Absolutely not,” Robin said. Kid Flash skidded to a halt in front of Robin and Superbaby.

“What do we do? Aqualad and Miss M are down for the count, Artemis’s arrows are doing nothing!”

“I don’t have all the answers,” Robin snapped. He was trying to remember all the various robots he and Batman had taken down, wracking his brains for a weakness that applied to their situation. Superbaby started to cry. “Wally try to get behind him and look for a weakness. Artemis, get to higher ground, when Wally finds something, be ready to shoot it.”

“And you?” Artemis asked.

“Distraction?” Robin suggested. His two teammates scattered, and he threw down a smoke bomb as soon as they were out of range, leaping away.

-Robin, I turned the link back on, what now?- M’gann asked through Robin’s head.

-Stay down for now. I think I’ve got a plan. But if possible, focus on Superbaby. I’m not gonna drop him, but just in case, be ready to catch.-

-Got it.-

The robot lumbered forward, firing into the smoke blindly. Robin dodged and ducked out of the way. It was hard to maneuver holding something heavy, even harder when it was something heavy and alive and important. He had the robot just almost where he wanted when he messed up his footwork, and stumbled. He went down on one knee, clutching Superbaby to his chest.

There was no time to dodge, the robot was about to fire. He pushed Superbaby across the floor, watching him skid over the slippery linoleum in startled shock. Then he put his arm up, waiting for the bullets. ‘Never close your eyes’ he could almost hear Batman saying.

No bullets came. Robin blinked, looking up. They were frozen in mid-air.

-M’gann, are you doing that?- he thought through the link.

-Um, that’s Conner,- her reply came. He looked over to see Superbaby, eyes glowing and fixed on the bullets. He blinked and they dropped to the floor. Then there was the sound of an arrow whistling through the air and the robot keeled forward. Robin scrambled out of the way, scooping up Superbaby again, just in time for the robot to crack the kitchen floor.

  
“That was crazy,” Kid Flash said, emerging from the other side of their fallen adversary. Artemis helped Aqualad up and shook out her wrists, like the adrenaline might come off that easily. M’gann hurried over, plucking a crying Superbaby out of Robin’s arms and shushing him delicately.

“We’re gonna need major repairs,” Robin said. He didn’t feel as shaken as he could tell the team was. Saving babies in tight spaces was kind of daily fare in Gotham.

“We should call Batman,” Aqualad said. Everyone sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa this took a long time. But that's life. I was busy. There's at least two more chpaters to come, big plans and all. Enjoy!


	13. Chapter 13

The press were like animals. The moment Superman stepped out of the courthouse, cape rippling out behind him, they burst into yells. At his side, Lex grinned. He was enjoying this, obviously.

“Superman! Did you and Luthor have an agreement about the baby?”

“Is it true you’re in a relationship?”

“Is it true you stole Luthor’s DNA?”

“How much did you know about project Cadmus?”

“What’s his name?” Clark looked into the crowd, put out his hand and gently but firmly pulled forward the hand of the reporter.

“He’s Superboy, and he’s my son,” Superman said into the startled man’s microphone. Lex clapped him on the shoulder and leaned over.

“Good luck,” he murmured, tossing a grin back at Superman as Mercy pushed her way through the crowd to make room for him. Superman sighed. He fielded three more questions, and then, from a long, long way away, suddenly he tuned into the sound of Conner crying, and without even blinking, he was hurtling through the air towards Mount Justice.

He actually broke the back door. He didn’t mean to. It just happened. And then he was in the kitchen and everything was… well everything was wrecked and Conner was wailing but he was alive, and from what Superman could tell, unhurt, sobbing in Miss Martian’s arms.

“What happened?” Superman asked, holding his arms out for Conner without even really processing the movement. Miss Martian handed him over.

“Holy crap, Superman,” Robin said, just as the zeta tube announced the arrival of Batman.  
“These aren’t Luthor’s,” was the first thing Batman said, though Superman noticed, where he might not have before, the way that he focused on Robin before saying anything, before really taking in the room.

“What do you mean, not Luthor’s? Wouldn’t he be using the court case to distract Superman while he grabs Superboy?” Wally asked.

“Why would he bother with a court case at all if that was his plan?” Batman pointed out.

“And these aren’t any Lexcorp robots I’ve ever seen,” Superman admitted.

“So someone else is after Superboy,” Robin said.

“Great. Just great,” Superman sighed. “Batman, keep in touch. I’m heading out,” he said. No one stopped him.

When Clark got home he coaxed Conner into eating and then put him to bed. Then he called Lois. It seemed like the only thing to do.

“I’ll have you know I was supposed to have a date. But you know, my investigative instincts tell me he’s a creep. And that you need my expert help on something. So make coffee,” she told him over the phone. So Clark made coffee.

“It’s Luthor,” he said, seconds after they both sat down.

“When isn’t it Luthor?” Lois asked. “No, sorry. What specifically?” So Clark told her about everything. The robots, Lex, the other robots. When he got up to get another cup of coffee Lois kicked off her heels and sighed.

“Maybe you could agree to joint custody?” she suggested.

“Lois, this is Lex Luthor we’re talking about.”

“I know, but it sounds like he really cares about Conner. And he is at least part Luthor,” Lois pointed out. Clark shuddered at the thought.

“How can I possibly trust him with my son?”

“Almost a week ago you didn’t trust you. And you didn’t call him your son either.” She had a point. Clark sighed and dropped down into a seat.

“I feel like I’m already screwing up big time,” he admitted. Lois put a hand over his and squeezed gently.

“And you called me.”

“Yeah. I’m a big dumb dork.”

“No. You’re Superman. And that mean’s you’ll figure it out.” After Lois left, Clark sat in the kitchen and drank the last of the pot of coffee. Then, even though he felt like he would probably regret it, he called Lex Luthor.

“I’ll give you weekends. Supervised at first.”

“Certainly not,” Lex said immediately.

“You think any jury will rule for you?” Superman asked.

“I think any jury can be persuaded.”

“But is it a risk you’re willing to take?”

“You know, those weren’t my robots. Even Lex Luthor has… non heroic enemies.”

“I know. Weekends. Take it or leave it.”

“I’ll take it, naturally,” Lex said. And hung up. Clark shut his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch. It felt like a mistake, and the right thing to do at the same time. From the office-nursery, he heard Conner crying, and levered himself up off the couch to investigate. A single beam of moonlight was shining through the window, spilling into the crib. Conner was squalling, his hands balled into small fists and a thin sheen of sweat coating his face. His heart was beater faster than usual. Faster than Clark had ever heard it.

A nightmare? Clark wondered. But surely he was too young for nightmares. He bent over the crib and brushed Conner’s hair gently away from his sticky forehead. Then he stopped. He wasn’t just sweaty. He was hot. And the apartment was relatively cool. Conner jerked and whimpered, still asleep. A thin trickle of blood spilled from his nose. Clark felt his blood run cold, his heart almost halt in his chest.

“Conner,” he whispered, and then spoke his name aloud, but there was no reaction. He picked him up, gently, as gently as possible, and wrapped the blanket from the crib around him. Then he slid open the window and took off into the night, flying faster than he meant to, headed for Smallville, heart in his throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, this is short and it took ages to get posted, but things have been busy blah blah normal fanfic writer excuses. The next one should be up sooner. For anyone wondering, I'm still playing with some of the new52 story stuff, regarding what happened to Jon Lane Kent and all that. If you wanna read the wiki articles for better backstory go for it, if not, don't worry, all will become clear eventually.


	14. Chapter 14

Conner looked a lot bigger in Martha’s comparatively small arms. But he didn’t look better. And Clark wasn’t sure he’d ever seen his mother’s face so grim.

“Doesn’t seem normal. Not like a regular fever. Something’s not right with him,” she whispered in the dim light of the kitchen, seated at the table. Clark clenched his fists and felt like his heart had dropped through the floor.  
“I never had anything like this?” he asked, hearing desperation tug at his voice. Martha, tissue in hand, gently wiped blood from Conner’s nose and shook her head.

“Never. Clark, is there anything...”

“Unusual I know about him?” Clark sat down at the table, not as heavily as he wanted to. Even in times of crisis, he had been trained it was never acceptable to break the kitchen chairs. He reached out and touched a hand to Conner’s ashen face, wishing he was as steel as superman. Wishing, briefly, in some unformed thought, that he was normal. Just a regular baby. Nothing special about him. “I’m his real father. His actual father. He has human and kryptonian DNA,” Clark said.

“But then who…?”

“Lex Luthor.”

“Oh my. Maybe he’s had something like this. Maybe he’d know, with all his fancy machines—”

“Ma, I can’t.”

“Maybe the fortress then,” Martha said. Clark stood up and she handed Conner back to him. He was about to step out the door when she put a hand on his shoulder. “Hold on a moment,” she whispered, and vanished up the stairs. She returned minutes later with a small blanket. One Clark recognized. “You liked this one a lot, especially when you couldn’t sleep,” she said, exchanging Conner’s blanket for the one she held. Clark nodded solemnly, and left the house. Martha had been his first idea, but she was hardly his last hope.

“Just hold on, okay,” Clark said softly, as the night air pulled at his hair and he hugged Conner to his chest. Conner made no sound. He barely even stirred. Superman was hoping, at least, trying to hope that the fortress of solitude would hold an answer. And as it happened, the diagnostics at the fortress did have an answer. But they didn’t have a solution.

Superman scanned the results four times before dropping onto the floor. Above him, on a table built for a full-grown kryptonian, Conner lay, barely breathing. Human and kryptonian DNA, never meant to mix, tearing apart from one another. He had never realized that having kids wasn’t an option because, well, he’d never really thought about having kids. The mechanics of it all had seemed too far off, a “maybe one day” idea. And then, one fell right into his lap. And now he was falling right back out again. Superman stood up, hands gripping the table on the verge of crushing the metal but restraining just that much.

“Conner,” he whispered. The fortress was silent in answer. In desperation, he called Batman.

“Maybe if we had weeks. Or it was fifty years in the future. I don’t know what to tell you,” Batman said.

“I don’t know what to do,” Superman told him. It was Bruce Wayne who answered him in reply.

“There is still someone you can call. Even if it seems terrible,” he said.

“I can’t! How can I trust Lex?” Clark cried. “In Luthor’s hands, he’s just a weapon. An object.”

“You’d rather have a dead son than a live one in the hands of Lex Luthor?” That stopped Clark cold. He looked down at his son, struggling to draw breath on the table. Such a short time ago he’d wanted nothing to do with the boy. And now, it was like the sun had fallen from the sky. There was nothing that mattered but Conner. Protecting him was everything.

“You’re right,” Clark said, quietly. He hung up. Then he gently picked up Conner from the table, and he flew back to Metropolis, landing softly, almost imperceptibly on the roof of the Lex Corp building. Almost imperceptibly, because when it came to Lex, he always knew when Superman had arrived. Which is why he was hardly surprised, didn’t even turn around in his chair when Superman entered.

“Superman. To what do I owe the pleasure? If it’s about our legal proceedings—” Lex stopped cold as he spun the chair around from the window, eyebrows rising. “You brought him. Why?” he asked. Superman approached the desk, holding Conner out in his arms, not offering him so much as lifting him desperately.

“He’s dying,” Superman said, and the words tasted like poison on his tongue, like swallowing shards of kryptonite even saying them, like out loud, it suddenly became true. Lex blinked, but said nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This little installment is very short but I am a busy busy (lies) person, and also it needed vaguely more research than other ones. At least like, probably two more chapters to come.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the person who went through and commented on every single chapter: I'm not sure if that was a mistake, but if it was on purpose I want you to know, I wanted to delete this fic just to spite you. To everyone who said nice things and waited patiently: I'm sorry.

Letting go of him was the hardest thing Superman had ever done. And he had done a lot of things that no human could ever do. Conner was limp in Lex’s arms, flopping like a ragdoll. It was like he wasn’t real. Like he had never been real.

 

“I have an idea,” Lex whispered. It felt like electricity jolting Clark’s heart. He could breathe again. “It’s dangerous though.”

 

“For us or for him?”

 

“For us.”

 

“I like it already,” Superman said.

 

“You’ve been to the moon, right?” Lex asked. Superman raised an eyebrow.

 

“I’ve been pretty much everywhere in the galaxy,” he said. Lex rolled his eyes. For a moment, the tension in the room seemed lifted.

 

“We’ll leave him with Mercy,” Lex said, at the same time Clark was saying: “We can leave him with my mother.” There was a moment of strained silence.

 

“As much as I would love to meet her… you can trust Mercy with him. At least now.”

 

“Lex…” Clark started to say.

 

“For now. I promise,” Lex said. Superman searched his face for some cue of a trick, some tell. But it was true what Lex was saying. For now, he wasn’t lying. Mercy entered the room without Lex even calling for her.

 

“Well if he’s going to be with Mercy, I’m calling in my own team,” Superman said.

 

“I take it you’re referring to Batman’s ‘Young Justice?’”

 

“He’ll be safest with both of them,” Superman said.

 

“He’ll be safest if we hurry,” Lex said, but he let Superman call them in before he started outlining his plan. “There’s a kind of kryptonite up there that you don’t know about,” Lex told him.

 

“Why don’t I know about it?”

 

“Because it didn’t help me. We ran tests, and it’s a healing kryptonite. Pretty much useless in a fight against Superman.”

 

“You’re creative. I would have thought you’d come up with a way to spin even that into a weapon.”

 

“Yes well, as flattering as it might be for you, I actually do things aside from thinking about how to destroy you. I run a fairly large corporation, if you haven’t noticed.”

 

“It can be hard to notice with you trying to kill me all the time,” Superman said. Lex laughed. He actually laughed. Not a: “You’ve fallen into my trap” laugh, but an actual laugh. Without thinking, Superman found himself cracking a smile.

 

“Well, let’s see if I can save someone if I put my mind to it,” Lex said, cracking his knuckles. Superman swallowed, his smile erased.

 

 

Seeing the moon up close was something that had never really gotten old to Superman. Looking down on the earth from the distance of space, he was always acutely aware of the opportunity he was taking advantage of that so few others had.

But today he wasn’t looking down on the Earth quite so fondly. Today something twisted in his heart as he looked down at the oceans and continents, distant and dwarfed. _If I lose him, how will I be me anymore?_ He wondered. Could he continue to be Superman, in the face of that? He’d always been strong. He’d always been unbreakable. Now he questioned. The radio buzzed in his ear, snapping him out of his thoughts.

 

“Anyone alive out there? Come in, Big Blue Boy Scout,” Lex’s voice drawled.

 

“Hey. Only the Leaguers get to call me that,” he said into his radio. There was no reply from Lex, but when Superman peered over at his ship he saw him shrug.

 

“So where are we finding this?” Superman asked.

 

“It’s further down a way. I’ll guide you there, and you’ll extract the kryptonite.”

 

“This had better work, Lex.”

 

“You don’t need to tell me that.”

 

 

 

The entire team was pretty distraught, but M’gann was beside herself. She was crying more then Superbaby had been on his first day with them. Wally was slumped over one of Lex’s expensive couches.

 

“This place creeps me out,” he said.

 

“It creeps all of us out, but we’re not leaving,” Dick said.

 

“I wasn’t suggesting it,” Wally snapped. Mercy was watching them from beside Superbaby’s cradle, but she said nothing.

 

“I think that for the moment at least, we can trust Luthor,” Kaldur said.

 

“Superman’s gonna come through,” Dick said. Then one of the front windows of the office blew in, and everyone had to dive for cover. M’gann threw up a telekinetic shield around them and the glass tinkled away to the ground. As the dust cleared, they looked up to see Superman striding forward. He was holding out a glowing blue piece of crystal. The team parted to let him through. He set the crystal down beside Superbaby, so his skin was bathed in its soft glow. Everyone was afraid to speak, almost holding their breath. Then Superbaby opened his eyes.

 

 

EPILOGUE

 

Clark woke up to the sound of the alarm clock blaring, and small hands poking his cheek and tugging on his shirt.

 

“Mmm, five more minutes,” he groaned.

 

“Dad. Dad!” Conner whined. “We gotta go, we gotta go.”

 

“Mmm, okay, I’m getting up,” Clark said, pushing the covers off and swinging his legs over the bed. Conner’s hair was sticking up and seemingly every angle. He snorted and ruffled it down.

 

“Okay, let’s go get breakfast,” he said.

 

“But I don’t want to be late,” Conner said.

 

“You’re not gonna be late, you have to eat breakfast before school, that’s the rules,” Clark said. Conner gave him the pout. It was more of a glare, honestly. Clark made coffee while Conner spooned cheerios into his mouth, and didn’t spill once. It was weird that he was already old enough to be starting school. It was amazing, actually.

 

On the steps of the school Clark found himself starting to tear up. He scrubbed his eyes on his sleeve. Conner squeezed his hand a little tighter. Clark crouched down in front of him as students and parents streamed past them into the school.

 

“Hey, remember to have fun today,” Clark said.

 

“I’m not scared, Dad.”

 

“I know. But if you are, it’s okay to be,” Clark said. “And remember—”

 

“I’m not gonna use my powers. I’ll be careful,” Conner said. Clark laughed, a little nervously.

 

“Okay.” He tugged on the straps of Conner’s backpack once, ruffled his hair again. Then he stood up, and Conner dashed up the steps, away from him. Clark sighed. And then, Conner turned back around and ran down the steps to wrap his arms around Clark’s legs, just for a moment. Then he was back up the steps and into the school. Clark smiled. From across the city, he heard something blow up, and a scream that sounded—yes, that was Lois. He’d been expecting to go to work, but it sounded like it was time to be Superman for a while.

 

When he was setting her back down on the sidewalk, she grinned at him.

 

“Any first day jitters?” she asked.

 

“No, he’s a star. Totally excited.”

 

“Don’t worry. He still needs you.”

 

“Yeah. It’s kind of…”

 

“It feels good, right?”

 

“It’s different. Yeah. It’s good.”


End file.
